


20/20 vision, cupid hit me with precision

by ThomasTheMemeEngine



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, M/M, a little nsfw. as a treat, ciri is 18 in this jask is 25 and geralt is (incoherent mumbling), everything is nice and nothing hurts, not slow burn they just tip toe around each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23827849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomasTheMemeEngine/pseuds/ThomasTheMemeEngine
Summary: If Yennefer had stopped leeching off their high-speed WiFi and gone home early, he would have jumped on the counter to spread his legs for the dashing stranger like a sex-crazed monkey.But instead of doing that, Jaskier quickly replied with "Okay, no worries! That'll be 3,50!" because he was a professional and could simply wait until he got home where he would jerk off, cry and write a mediocre song about it.______Jaskier (who's a barista and hates it) tries to woo Gary of Nivea. That's it, that's the plot. Written by an actual barista, mind you.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 80
Kudos: 280





	1. americano

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unicornsandrainbows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unicornsandrainbows/gifts).



> (ominous chanting as the earth rumbles) witcher brainrot! witcher brainrot! witcher brainrot!

Matcha Frappe with two pumps of hazelnut syrup and chocolate sprinkles on top. _Lactosefree_.

Jaskier absent-mindedly stirred the diabetes-inducing monstrosity with his straw as he watched Yennefer, comfortably situated on the largest and nicest couch, type away on her MacBook Pro. The thunderous clicking was damn near hypnotizing. He briefly mused if she found it difficult to use the keyboard with those long, black acrylic nails of hers. That thought made the corners of his lips quirk upwards.

"Hey, Yennefer!"

"Hm?"

"How do you pick your nose with these claws? Care to enlighten me?"

The brunette squealed at a tissue that was being thrown after him. It bounced off his face and landed unceremonially in his cup. He grimaced and fished it out with two fingers before pouring the now tarnished drink down the drain. Probably served him right for bothering his most frequent customer for shits and giggles but he was just so _painfully bored_. Closing shifts during the week were about as challening as assembling a puzzle with four pieces. Jaskier had already finished doing most of the prepping before the mid-shift (Ciri, wonderful girl) even left and now he was humoring himself with putting the blenders to use and trying out all sorts of tooth-rotting variations. It came to him that he should thank Yennefer for ruining his newest creation because his stomach was starting to cry for help. The next best thing he could do to keep himself from spiralling into madness and getting strangled by the sexy but scary business lady he loosely referred to as a friend was... people watching. Simple, yet proven to be effective. Luckily, the entire storefront was made of glass which made it very easy to observe passersby and shoot warning looks to people who tried to enter the cafe two minutes before closing time.

Jaskier sighed and pulled at his worn-out festival wrist bands.

He couldn't help but daydream about the day he'd stand on top of a massive stage, clutching his favorite guitar with sweaty, nervous palms, skin glistening under the relentless beam of giant spotlights. How he would headline a crazy show with hundreds of shot up tweens, eager to sway and cheer to his cheesy love songs and heartfelts ballads but, dammit, right now he _wasn't_ and perhaps he would never be. Or at least not in the forseeable future, that's for sure. For now, he was just a 25-year-old barista with a music degree and a caffeine addiction that was gonna put him in an early grave. His eyes wandered back to Yennefer, still absorbed in... whatever it was she did on that very expensive laptop. Business stuff. Possibly making plans on how to kill the CEO and take over the company. She couldn't possibly be that much older, he realized. Maybe he was just bad at adulting.

Suddenly, the sad musician's train of thought violently derailed and crashed with an Oscar-worthy explosion as he heard someone clear his throat, not too far away from the counter. The noise had almost startled Jaskier to death and he promptly bumped his knee into the nearby fridge as if to punish his brain for not paying attention. _Jesus_ , he thought, _He must have come through the door I wasn't guarding_.

Jaskier turned his head, already an apology on his lips but the words seemingly died in his throat at the sight of _him_. The man in question was just like the bodyguard in his daydreams who would shield him from the overwhelming fans with his broad shoulders, tall like a tower and, well, cool as a cucumber. Yes, totally! He could it see it! Late 30s maybe, early 40s at best. The scary demeanor, the sharp, attentive eyes and —

"Black coffee, please. Medium."

 _Even the voice was melodic_. Low and rumbling like a bassline. Jaskier gave him the sweetest customer service smile he could muster to make up for his previously displayed dumbfoundedness.

"Ah, sure!", the brunette chirped. "Plain drip? I can also make you an americano or a long black, depending on what you prefer. Personally, I'd go for long black because it retains the crema and has a richer flavor. We also have cold brew, by the way!"

There was a stunned silence in which Jaskier could admire the perfectly square chin, light stubble. Lazy by choice, he would assume. And, _oh_ , the long, white hair. Dreamy. The amber-colored eyes, however, conveyed utter and complete confusion (still beautiful, though).

"Just... a simple black coffee? The strongest.", the man offered uselessly. Jaskier struggled to bite back a laugh. He didn't frequent coffee shops. Of course he wouldn't. He should be standing in a river, catching fish with his bare hands or fighting off a werewolf. Jaskier just found it terribly endearing, the fact that the guy could probably snap his spine with ease by using nothing but the very tip of his pinky finger but struggled when being forced to make a simple decision. Oh no. Ruggedly handsome and slightly dumb.

If Yennefer had stopped leeching off their high-speed WiFi and gone home early, he would have jumped on the counter to spread his legs for the dashing stranger like a sex-crazed monkey.

But instead of doing that, Jaskier quickly replied with "Okay, no worries! That'll be 3,50!" because he was a _professional_ and could simply wait until he got home where he would jerk off, cry and write a mediocre song about it.

The man seemed endlessly relieved and slid him the money over the counter. Easy transaction. Jaskier gathered the coins in his hand when the customer spoke up again.

"It's Geralt, by the way."

It became exceedingly hard not to melt with fondness _. Oh honey, no, this is not a Starbucks, I don't need your name but thank you very much I will treasure this information for the rest of my life._

"Okay, _Geralt_. Medium americano, coming right up."

Jaskier cringed at how wanting he sounded, but couldn't really help himself either. He fell in love so easily. He fetched a cup from the pile with a single, swift motion and scribbled down the name, finishing it off with a little smiley face. Perfect. As he slid over to the espresso machine, he spotted something in the corner of his eye that purposefully caught his attention. Something, that nearly made his jaw drop. Yennefer, of course, had observed the whole, awkward exchange like she always did with Jaskier's flirtatious endeavors and held up her MacBook so he could see the screen. She had typed out a message in her Word document, font size ramped up to at least 100 so Jaskier could recognize it from afar. It read the following:

SINCE WHEN ARE YOU INTO OLDER MEN?

Geralt shot him a troubled look as the barista promptly choked on air at the sight of something behind his back but when he whipped his head around to see, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Yennefer with her cat-like reflexes had already gone back to to the regularly scheduled typing as if nothing had occured. Jaskier grimaced as he removed the portafilter from its respective group head and knocked the stale coffee grounds into the trash. _Thanks for the valuable input, Yen._


	2. espresso macchiato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm.

"Nah, c'mon. You'll be fine. If worse comes worst, just call me."

"But..."

The blonde nervously chewed on her lower lip. The first closing shift was always nerve-wrecking, especially when the opener would be someone mean-spirited, which was _totally_ the case tomorrow. Crap. Ciri really didn't want to wake up to an angry group chat message. At least she could count on Jaskier to help her out.

"I think the delivery guys should be here in, like, an hour or two. Don't let them smell your fear and just shove everything in the next best freezer. Don't forget to write it all down in the pastry inventory count. Also: Mocha and chais are prepped and I wiped down the counters and cabinets. It's smooth sailing from here on."

"Well, that's easy for you to say, Jas... You've been here for, what? Two years already?"

"Blergh, don't remind me..."

The machine made the telltale clicking sound which indicated that the espresso has finished pouring out. Ciri picked up the cup and started adding milk, nice and steady in a circular motion. Then, she quickly dragged the pitcher across the cup to finish off her vaguely heart-shaped latte art attempt. _Subpar_. She frowned for a moment, then handed the customer her drink with a brilliant smile and bid her goodbye. "Well...", Ciri turned to Jaskier. "I think I'm gonna – Oh my god, what are you doing?"

The brunette looked up at her with faux innocence. Ciri had placed her baby blue nail polish on the counter so she would have something to do once the customers stopped flooding in but Jaskier, with his famously bad impulse control, has failed to resist the urge to paint at least one nail of his. After finishing the last few strokes on the index finger, he screwed the little bottle shut and inspected his arguably messy craftsmanship.

"You think it suits me?", he beamed at her.

Ciri looked laughed. "I think you're horrible at applying it. I can do that for you next time, if you like."

"No thank you, the smell is sending me into the depths of hells." He wrinkled his nose for good measure. It earned him another chuckle from the girl. Suddenly, the front door swung open which a little more force than needed. The doorframe squealed and their eyes wandered to the noise of the source. Ciri now squealed too, in delight.

"Why's this door is so goddamn light?"

Jaskier's eyes grew wide.

"Geralt! You're here!"

Jaskier's eyes grew wider.

 _She knows him! Oh my god, she knows the man I embarrassed myself in front of and still crush on despite knowing better! OH MY GAWD, it's him!_ Jaskier's thoughts sped up impossibly fast like a bullet train which had the word DISASTER written on it as he watched the man he secretly, or – not so secretly adored walk up to the counter like it's nothing to ruffle his coworker's hair. Poor Jaskier could do nothing but stare, even though this time it wasn't because he looked like a greek god or a sexy viking or _both_. Jaskier hasn't seen him in at least a couple of days and slowly started to accept the fact that he wasn't gonna be reunited with the man of his dreams anytime soon. It was a hard pill to swallow but when he thought back to their mortifyingly awkward first encounter, the barista had deemed it a blessing and went back to worshipping other people he could not have like the cute red-haired guy that lived next door or Chris Hemsworth, for example. Jaskier decided to change Geralt's mind about him, get his act together. He offered him a confident smile and was met with an acknowledging hum which sounded a little too unimpressed for his liking.

"Hello, Jaskier."

Hearing his name come out of his mouth in that _voice_ was, no doubt, extremely intoxicating _._ Jaskier couldn't fight the way his face lit up and prayed to god he wasn't looking like a giddy school girl. Then he realized, he hasn't introduced himself and looked questioningly at Ciri who had taken Geralt's face betweens her hands to give it a gentle squeeze. It was sickeningly sweet.

"I told him you're my favorite coworker.", the blond grinned and lowered her hands. Jaskier straightened his back with newfound confidence. _Damn right, I am!_ "There aren't that many who are bearable. Our shopmanager is straight up evil. I think she eats babies."

Geralt gave her a lazy smirk which looked unfairly hot. "You weren't here when I came to visit you on monday."

"Well, you dingus, that's because I told you to be here at 4 PM, but you forgot."

"Hm. So I did."

A curious thought popped up in Jaskier's head. "So... Are you two related, or...?"

A fair assumption, considering the similar, pale complexion and the light, fairy-like hair.

Ciri answered with a giggle. "He's more like my weird uncle. My mom and him go horse riding together."

"Weird?" Geralt shot her a look.

"Yes, weird.", she confirmed.

 _He rides horses!_ Jaskier swooned internally, although it was not a horse he wished to ride. Liking someone who's a friend of Ciri's made the whole thing so much more bittersweet. The disarming quality of it only worsened his hopeless little crush and made Geralt so much more appealing. The door slid open again, this time much more gentle.

"Ciri.", Jaskier nudged her, "Customer."

The girl gave them the slightest sigh before putting on her irresistably charming customer service personality. Unfortunately, this left Jaskier at the mercy of the very man he couldn't function around, who was also eyeing him very suspiciously. The brunette wanted to faint and scream at the same time. He miserably realized that he should have just gone home while he still had the chance. After Ciri sent another happy customer on their way, she hopped back over.

"Is he your boyfriend, Ciri?"

This evoked exactly two reactions: Gagging noises from Jaskier and an exasperated "OH MY GOD, GERALT!" from Ciri, before she started laughing at the brunette's theatrical respone.

"Oh, dear Geralt, how terribly nice of you to assume that someone as fair, brilliant and fantastic as Cirilla would even look my way", he made another broad guesture which fueled the girl's laughter, "but I'm afraid she's much, much too young for me. I'm naught but a poor, old man, undeserving of such splendid love."

"I'm also _way_ out of his league.", she added knowledgably. Now it was Jaskier's turn to laugh.

Geralt seemed appeased. Jaskier figured that his assumption made sense if he had previously thought him to be 18 like Ciri _which he most definitely wasn't_.

"You can't be that old, though.", Geralt said with a hint of genuine curiousity in his stoic voice.

"It's the baby face, I'm 25! My genes are, like, _nuts_."

"Hm."

* * *

That "Hm" echoed in his head long after the conversation was over. He sat on his couch, contemplating over a spoonful of ice cream. The Ben and Jerry's he cradled in his left arm was almost starting to give him frostbite but he still held on to it as if it was the anchor that kept him from floating too far out into the sea. The silly, irrational part of his brain wanted to go back in time and yell "SEE? I AM OF LEGAL AGE AND SINGLE, PLEASE GO ON A DATE WITH ME". The smarter part of his brain ordered him to eat more ice cream, which was an order he gladly followed.


	3. honeycomb latte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yennefer and triss are lishrally just vibin

Another day, another dollar.

Ciri woke up feeling _good_.

Most of her friends would groan in annoyance at the prospect of having to go to work but that silly, little part-time job was starting to become another pillar of her wellbeing. She almost went crazy, she really did. The dutiful girl had completed most of her assignments before spring break has even begun and when March finally rolled around the corner she found herself deprived of any chores and with a complete lack of purpose. Applying for jobs has managed to fill the void, ease her mind. She was much too young to experience existential dread, anyhow. Now she only had to face her fear of having to answer the shopmanager's calls when someone fell ill.

Ciri ate, threw on some clothes, braided her hair, undid the braids because she changed her mind, slid into her Vans (which were stained with coffee) and went to get her bike. It was gonna be a nice day. Jas and Triss were both on duty. And Geralt would visit her again, for sure. Knowing this made her smile. Ciri loved how to see that he and Jaskier got along. It's been two weeks since she has introduced them to each other and it seemed to be going surprisingly well. She hoped they could be friends. Geralt pushed people away that weren't Ciri or her family and Jaskier was chronically bored with his life – perhaps they would fix each other. Two negatives equal plus, so they say. Ciri figured, she could help them overcome their obstacles, lead them on a path of self-improvement. Be their Oprah.

She had _not_ been their Oprah.

She had been their matchmaker.

Opening the door to the storage room to drop off her belongings had been a fatal error.

A beautiful connection was indeed in the makings. Geralt's tongue was _very_ _clearly connecting with Jaskier's mouth_. The two of them immediately froze and if it were any other situation, Ciri would have laughed at the look of sheer horror on their faces. There was a moment of awkward untangling where Jaskier wiped his lips with the hem of his sleeve and Geralt fixed the upper two buttons of his shirt. God. She immediately turned on her heel and stormed off, yelling "TRISS, WHERE ARE YOU? I NEED YOU TO BLEACH MY EYES".

The two men, freshly caught incognito, exchanged panicked looks. It was unclear who should run after her. They found themselves incapable of making a coherent thought and just went both.

Ciri didn't hate them, of course. She would _never_. It had been like seeing your parents kiss. The two of them made ammends to never misuse the sacred halls of this coffee shop like that _ever again_ (little did she know they would) and apologized at least a trillion times. Triss and Yennefer giggled occasionally and watched the scene unfold from afar. Ciri ended up pulling Geralt into a bear hug he hadn't anticipated. Everything about his flushed, concerned face made Jaskier's heart ache in a way it never has before. He should be over the moon and to be frank, _he was_ , but he couldn't help but also feel so... inexplicably sad.

* * *

**30 MINUTES EARLIER**

It was unclear who made the first move. Jaskier always lit up under Geralt's gaze like a nervous, bisexual lightbulb and what he had previously dismissed as a projection of his own desires was gradually morphing into something tangible. A brief look at his lips, a certain remark. The hint of a smile. And Jaskier was brave per se. Foolhardy, even. Triss glanced at him from behind the cash register when a certain white-haired man came through the door and ultimately saw him tense up.

"Do you wanna take a quick break?", she asked him in her sing-songy voice.

Her lips were curled into a cheeky smile. Triss and Ciri talked a lot. She knew of what went on. And she knew her coworker _so_ very well. That sweet, romantic and endlessly complicated Jaskier. Yennefer, who also had a knack for reading the room, has discretely lowered her MacBook's display to observe.

There was a quick nod from Jaskier.

He promptly stepped away from the espresso machine and into the lobby. Before Geralt even had the chance to say hello, he was already being pulled away by his wrist into the restroom area. There was another third door besides the two regular ones for men and women, devoid of any sign or marking and Geralt quickly realized it was a storage room because Jaskier was actually _shoving him inside_. The barista paid minimal attention to Geralt's confused grunts. He was on a mission. Triss wiggled her eyebrows at Yennefer, who simply chuckled at the shorter man's boldness. Jaskier quickly slammed the door behind them shut. For a second there was darkness until his hand found the light switch.

Welp.

He actually hasn't thought it through and still nervously clung to the door handle. He stood there with his back facing Geralt, who was probably still trying to come up with the perfect way to express his confusion. Everything about this situation was nothing short of comical. _This is fine... Oh god, who am I kidding? It's not fine_.

"...So?"

Typical Geralt, elloquent as ever.

Jaskier took a deep breath and turned around to look Geralt in the eye. Somehow, he managed to exhale all his bravery.

"I... I think I'm losing it."

A pause.

"I can't help you with that, I'm not a psychiatrist.", Geralt politely retorted.

"That's not what I'm – Oh my god, was that a joke? I'm proud of you! Really. Okay, uhm, what was I gonna say..."

Jaskier took a step forward and it backfired because the shrinking gap between them only fueled his fight, flight or flirt instinct.

"So, I, uh... I would like to just make sure that we're on the same page... in terms of... I mean..."

Geralt had also taken a step forward, then another and _holy shit_ their noses were almost touching, their breaths mingling. His hair looked like liquid platinum and Jaskier fought off the urge to run his fingers through it, pull at it.

"Yes, go on?", Geralt calmly uttered.

Jaskier felt hot and cold. Would his voice still be so steady if this _meant_ anything?

"Are you flirting with me? Am I dellusional?"

Geralt gave a contemplative hum as he wrapped his hands around the other man's small waist and Jaskier's brain activity was reduced to _Oh, hands big_ and _Wow, smell good_.

"I don't know...", he murmured, voice impossibly low. "Would you like me to?"

Geralt bent down and cruelly stopped mere inches before Jaskier's mouth. There was nothing greater than this. Jaskier hazily acknowledged that this was the most excited he has been in years, no doubt. He shut his eyes. Time moved slow like honey dripping from a spoon.

"Oh, uh... Yes, very much, actually. On a scale of 1 to 10 it's probably a 12..."

And there it was. A chaste kiss, then again and again and again and now they held each other like a prized possession. Jaskier released a shaky sigh at the feeling of Geralt biting his lower lip. His mouth fell open, inviting Geralt to explore. Jaskier was bolder now and undid the two upper buttons of Geralt's shirt to lightly run his hand over his collarbone and some of his chest. It felt much to good and Jaskier was getting increasingly more anxious as the kiss grew more intense and hungry. The rapid fire thoughts inside his head grew louder. _Oh god, oh fuck, I'm still at work! How long have we been in here? I need to go back to work! Okay, wow, now he's putting his hands on my ass – No wait, Jaskier! Snap out of it! You can't fuck someone in the storage room again! This isn't worth getting fired over! – Or is it?! Maybe it is!_

Jaskier's heart skipped a few beats when the doorhandle began to move.


	4. flat white

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is brought to u by:  
> b r e a k f a s t b a g e l s

It was unreal.

They fell into a rythm.

Sometimes Geralt picked up Jaskier from work, took him to his house where they fucked, watched TV and slept. Lost and without purpose like two abandoned boats at sea that bumped into each other now and then. Jaskier grew sadder with every day. He liked it, but he _didn't_. He had learned quite a bit about the stoic man. Geralt worked as a bouncer at a semi-famous club, hence the lack of duties during the day. Geralt's wardrobe was almost entirely black. Geralt's favorite horse was called 'Roach'. Then, there were some other things that came to his attention. Jaskier became infatuated with the beauty of Geralt's calloused palms and the prominent veins on the back of his hands; He became unbelievably fond of the way Geralt would occasionally speak in riddles just to mess with him and hum the choruses of songs that Jaskier had composed when he thought that no one else could hear. Nothing Jaskier enjoyed could loosen the knots in his chest, the terrible thought that grew in him like cancer – _This would end_. It was a fling, some momentary bliss. And like an idiot, he gave himself to Geralt like he has given himself to all of his previous partners who eventually grew tired of the cheap wit, his anxiety and the emotional baggage.

Jaskier eventually woke up one day, rumbling with nervous energy. Geralt was there, right beside him like the night before that _and the night before that_ – disheveled, peaceful and blissed out. The room was bathed in early sunlight but right now, he could stand none of it. Not the quiet sleeping sounds nor the familiar ceiling. Jaskier pulled on his pants, threw on his shirt and began to look for a pen and something to write on. He wouldn't leave without a message, that'd be cruel. After a couple of minutes he managed to find a sharpie that was buried under a pile of clothes butthe man did not seem to possess a single piece of paper. If his phone wasn't dead, he would have left him a text.

 _Dammit_.

He needed to wake him after all.

Jaskier began poking Geralt's face but quickly realized that it was a useless effort. The man slept like the dead. Jaskier didn't have it in him to shake Geralt by the shoulders, so he thought of another way. He took Geralt's hand in his and scribbled down a short message on his palm. Jaskier prayed to god that Geralt would be able to decipher his cryptic, chickenscratch writing. SRY I'M RLLY UPSET. IT'S NOT U. G2G. NEED A BAGEL. He put the cap back on and tossed the sharpie back into the designated pile. Good enough. He grabbed his fanny pack, some discarded essentials and shut the door behind him as quietly as possible.

The sun beamed at him cheerily. He took a shaky breath.

_Okay, what now superstar?_

He couldn't just google the nearest bakery like a normal person because he hadn't thought of bringing his charger, so he did the old-school thing and relied on his eyesight which wasn't _really that great to begin with_ – he was a few sleepless nights in front of his computer away from needing perscription glasses. His restlessness led him to a cute, little cafe down the street where he spent his last seven hard-earned bucks on the largest breakfast bagel he has ever laid his eyes upon and a cup of cheap, terrible drip coffee. It looked like sewer water and would taste like piss, for sure, but it wasn't like he could materialize a professional espresso machine out of thin air so he sat down at a little table by the window and began to eat hesitantly. He was halfway into his third bagel (because he gave in like a fool and whipped out his credit card) when he spotted a familiar face stepping through the door. He nearly dropped his food.

"Oh my god. How'd you find me?"

Geralt simply raised his hand to reveal the smudged stain which had once been a coherent message. At this point it just read: SHDSICMODM. GEG. AGEBHSNF. BAGEL.

"There aren't that many places that serve bagels around here."

_Ahw, crap._

Geralt sat down in the empty seat across from him and shamelessly reached out to steal a sip of Jaskier's shitty coffee. He snickered at the way Geralt's face scrunched up.

"If I find any black sharpie stains on my bed sheets I'll fuck you up, just so you know."

"They look pretty bad as is. You should thank me for adding a little flair.", Jaskier responded in a nonchalant manner.

Geralt reacted with a rare, toothy grin.

"Little shit."

The insult had no malice to it and the intimacy of their banter made Jaskier's heart do somersaults. The taller man suddenly let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

"Sorry for coming after you. I'll go home if you wanna be alone. Just wanted to see if you're okay. When I discovered that illegible grafitti on my hand, I figured you had a stroke or something."

Jaskier smirked lightly. "It was readable before you brushed it off in your sleep." Some melancholy crept into his voice. "I just... I felt _really_ really bad this... morning... Not because of you, I promise. It's depressing shit I won't get into. You see, it's just – I've got lots of stuff on my mind and I don't quite feel like putting on a happy face today. Geralt, I know you have work later. I didn't wanna ruin your day or whatever. It's fine. I'm just... upset, I guess."

_It was so much easier when you were just an image inside my head._

Jaskier proceeded to stare into his coffee as if it held all the answers to his questions. Verbalizing his emotions felt quite freeing, he had to admit. Maybe Geralt would finally realize what a hot mess he was and just get up and leave. When Jaskier glanced back up to meet his eyes, he was surprised to learn that he could find some _comfort_ in them.

"We can be upset together, if that helps. We don't have to talk. But if you want to – I'm a good listener. I hate saying shit, anyhow."

Geralt's tone was apathetic but his words were kind. Geralt was _always_ so unbearably kind with him in his own grumpy, straight-foward way that drove most people away but not Jaskier, no. _Say something mean_ , he pleaded internally, _so I can stop seeing you and won't fuck this up_. Jaskier wanted to decline the man's offer, run off, steal a car and cross the border but instead he just said "I'd like that" with a traitorous hint of hopefulness.

"Glad we settled that." Geralt smirked again (he did that a lot, now) and snatched the temporarily abandoned bagel out Jaskier's hands to take a bite. Of course that idiot had left to run after him without eating breakfast first.

And then there was this gorgeous moment where it was good and reassuring, that fragile thing they had. Right up until the moment when it _wasn't_ , when Jaskier felt that _sting_ and the truth slid out of him like a coughed up flower.

"Shit. I think, I'm in love with you."


	5. cafè latte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> garys pov. AS A TREAT

Geralt promptly stopped chewing and it was as if his entire body had disabled every sort of activity that wasn't related to processing this new information. Miraculously, he then managed to swallow his food, all the while Jaskier closely followed the movement of Geralt's adam's apple with his eyes. There was nothing but complete, terrible and mortifying silence. Jaskier suddenly broke it by slamming his hands on the table, nearly sending Geralt into an early grave.

"I need to feed my cat!"

Jaskier did _in fact_ not have a cat. Just a few spiders on the ceiling, at best. He immediately propelled himself out his seat and made a beeline to the door, leaving the other man completely flabbergasted to the point where just uselessly uttered "Okay...?" to no one in particular. It seemed like he had missed that insanely narrow time window where he could have said anything helpful, done something – just _anything_ that wasn't watching Jaskier's face slowly turn beet red. Geralt just now realized that he was still holding Jaskier's forgotten breakfast bagle and awkwardly put it back on the plate. He released a deep sigh and rubbed his temples. How did he feel about Jaskier, anyhow? First, he thought he was a fool, then, he thought he was a good fuck but eventually, he...

"Uhm, Sir, I don't mean to be intrusive but, uh, would you like a muffin? You look like you need a muffin."

The short, bespectacled woman behind the cash register clutched her apron nervously. Geralt was too spent to be mad at her for eavedropping and just nodded miserably like a kicked puppy. He spent the rest of his stay listlessly consuming his free chocolate muffin, wondering if he had ever felt this pathetic before.

* * *

"Oh my god, you klutz! How could you?! _How could you_?!"

Geralt's arm was attacked by a series of vicious slaps by a very infuriated Ciri, who was currently balancing a whole McMenu on her lap including a large coke which was threatening to spill over. She had picked him up in her car after receiving a very unnerving call that definifely required an intricate "car therapy" session.

Car therapy was when the two of them ate fast food inside her blue Toyota and talked about their feelings.

"Whose side are you on, _anyway_?", he countered with a growl and grabbed a handful of fries from the box that stood in front of the windshield.

The blonde made an affronted noise as she took a big sip of her drink. "It's not about _taking sides_ , I just think you handled this situation poorly", she began fiddling with the straw, "and Jaskier's timing was godawful, for sure. I can't blame you for being stunned. But, dang it, you should've said something! Tell him, Lena."

"Yup, yup. I think you messed up big time, Mr. G."

Truth be told, Geralt found it much easier to unwind without having a nosy third person in the backseat. He shot her a disgruntled look through the rear-view mirror to which the blue-haired girl just shrugged and cooly adjusted the piercing in her nose. Being scolded by two snotty teenagers... He has truly hit a new low.

"This is... unfair, Lena is biased."

Ciri scoffed. "Uh, excuse you! We were on our way to Dara's when you rang my phone and I came to your rescue! As fast as I could! Besides, Lena's super good at sorting out her feelings. You could, perhaps... learn a thing or two."

"I've been told that my breakup texts are _sublime_.", Lena remarked.

Geralt gave an intensely unimpressed "Hm." from the passenger seat.

Ciri clasped her hands together and Geralt sighed.

"Anyways! Let's not get off topic!", she began, "I'm glad you came with this to me. Geralt, _he loves you!_ Being loved by someone good and gentle – that's a rare thing. I'm not asking you to tell me what it is with you, with... with you being _unapproachable._ "

Geralt pressed his lips together. He wouldn't tell her of his disillusionment with love, how he kept himself busy with hook-ups and, _more importantly_ , why he didn't want anyone new in his life. Being emotionally unavailable has brought him _this far_ but, dammit, Jaskier hasn't torn down his walls but he sure as hell had slipped through the cracks.

"Well, I'll just say: You've been good to me. You've been good to mom, you've been good to grandma and to the colleagues you pretend to hate. But, well, there's only so much we can do for you... And maybe it's hopeless, maybe Jaskier's not right for you but – I'd like to see you try, at least. Because right now, he is scared _shitless_ because he thinks he scared you off! Did he scare you off, Geralt?"

" _Of course he didn't_."

The blonde smiled at the man and offered him a chicken nugget, which he gladly accepted.

"Then go ahead and tell him!"

Ciri looked as pleased with herself as she could and rubbed off the grease on her fingers. Lena politely pretended that she hadn't been listening intently to their back and forth and scrolled through her Instagram to make herself seem busy. Ciri unpromptedly began collecting everyone's trash because she realized that her job was done. Now it was Geralt's turn to put her guidance into action.

"Imma go throw out this stuff real quick. Would you like me to drive you home?"

Geralt shrugged and Ciri took that as a yes. Hell was gonna freeze over before Geralt would ask her a favor in a straight-forward manner. Ciri exited the car and left her two friends in a very awkward situation where neither of them knew if they should make conversation or ignore each other. Geralt hoped that Lena would keep quiet out of kindness but – as always in life – things _didn't_ go the way he wanted them to and he braced himself for the most unpleasant five minutes of his life. He could tell that the teen shuffled excitedly in her seat and took a deep breath.

"Sorry 'bout that whole situation. Shit sucks. I can suck your dick, if that would cheer you up?"

Geralt ran a hand over his face, incredulous.

The girl merely scoffed at that and began inspecting her nails.

"M'kay, suit yourself."

* * *

After Geralt got dropped off at home, he began to prepare for his shift because it was getting increasingly late and he wasn't so keen on getting shit from the other two bouncers at the _Kaer Morhen,_ Eskel and Lambert. He refused to call them his friends, but made sure not to infuriate them beyond simple banter. He slipped into his work uniform, combed his hair, ate and left for work. He couldn't really hear the car radio over his thoughts and noticed that he had arrived at the club with a lot of pent up frustration. Geralt had to do something about the Jaskier situation but now was _definitely_ not the time. He pulled up into the parking lot and immediately caught sight of the ridiculously long queue which had already formed in front of the neon lit door. He let out a groan. Sometimes he wondered if his life would be easier if he had chosen to simply work at a shittier club with fewer people. Then he remembered his paycheck, which... definitely sweetened the deal. _Thank god for Vesemir's fat wallet._

Geralt dutifully slipped through the back door as all staff members did and was quickly met with the two familiar sensations which dominated Kaer Morhen at all times: that lingering smell of hard liquor and the deafening techno music. People would come flooding in soon, so the DJs were warming up and making a few last technical adjustments while the barkeepers scurried around to make sure everything was stocked. Geralt successfully dodged all the people that could possibly get in his way and let the two girls at the front desk know that he was there. Then, he finally exited through the front door where he was once again met with the crisp night air.

He shuffled over to where the queue began and his two colleagues waited. Eskel shot Geralt a wolfish grin. Lambert remained deliberately unimpressed and just nodded at him. Things seemed calm and well so far but the people that waited at the gate were getting increasingly anxious to enter, fueled by alcohol and various other substances. It was gonna be a long, long night full of rude people, shoving and... 

Wait, was that _Jaskier_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hoep u liked this Next chapter will be spici


	6. with two pumps of pumpkin spice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the usage of commas in this fic is downright horrendous im sorry i will put myself in gay baby jail.

The brunette delibaretly forced his way through the crowd but queue-jumping entailed a whole lot more angered looks and cursing from the partygoers than he had originally anticipated.

Sadly, it seemed like the only way of getting to the main entrance was gonna be a major _pain in the ass_ because it led to a narrow, secluded area and the only way forward was to push through the masses. He could already tell that attempting to bullshit his way to the VIP gate would be futile. Jaskier did his darndest to offer a rushed apology to every single person he passed, occasionally gave his best puppy eyes to a select few individuals who looked like they were on the verge of kicking his sorry ass. The smell of cheap vodka and cigarette smoke was enticing, though. Jaskier abruptly realized that he hasn't gone clubbing in forever and maybe he _should_ because that would get him in shape again. Kaer Morhen looked cool, no doubt. Like a warehouse, but for music. He's never been a fan of techno, but the pulsating beat he could faintly make out from afar didn't sound so bad. He wondered if Geralt would take him, if he asked. _He wondered if Geralt could dance_. The thought made him antsy but in a good way and he reminded himself of his mission before his mind would go... somewhere it should not. Eventually, Jaskier caught sight of he man he's been looking for, although the relief quickly gave way to terror. The two other bouncers by his side looked positively threatening, _for fuck's sake,_ but it wasn't as if Jaskier could bail now. He had made it this far and refused to chicken out because of a few frowny faces. He had already conquered Geralt who arguably wore the most imtimidating RBF in existence. This would be a minor hiccup on the road, at best. A few more polite shoves and he finally managed to emerge from the sea of people like a panicked fish. He was pretty sure that he smelt like eighty different bodies now. Sheesh.

* * *

Geralt had looked at Jaskier from probably a million different angles – or maybe not quite a _million_ but he could at least name a million different things he found endearing about the man – but on this particular day, the sight of him managed to punch the air out of his chest. Jaskier just looked so goddamn special, illuminated by the purple neon lights like that. The shadows on his face fell in all the right places and his stupid, messy locks shone so nicely under the harsh beam. He shouldn't laugh (which he absolutely didn't, _no way_ ) because Jaskier looked disoriented, timid and very annoyed by a shady-looking guy who pulled at his sleeve but when he locked eyes with Geralt, _those pale blue eyes he grew accustomed to_ , his lips curled into a smile and... Wow.

Geralt suddenly became aware of how badly Jaskier had gotten under his skin.

That persistent feeling clung to him like a fresh tattoo. It scared him, pulled him back into reality where he remembered that he should be, first of all, rightfully _confused_ but he didn't have much time to dwell in that feeling because Jaskier was mere seconds away of being "dealt with" by his coworkers. Eskel reacted first, of course – _that was his fucking job_. He took a step forward, jaw clenched, perfectly ready to rough up the fool who had who stepped out of line, but Geralt swiftly caught him by the arm and Jaskier made a sound resembling a squeaky toy.

"It's okay, Eskel, it's okay. I know him."

Lambert scoffed. "Since when do _you_ know people?"

Jaskier had the audacity to giggle, that asshole. "May I, uh, borrow him – _Geralt,_ for a second?" His shoulders tensed under the three puzzled stares he received. "I-If that's okay, of course!"

Geralt took a sharp inhale. Truth be told, he didn't want to be confronted yet about what had happened this morning but acknowledged – thanks to Ciri – that he owed the man at least some sort of explaination for his blatant dumbfoundedness. He opened his mouth to speak but was abruptly cut off by a ferocious black-haired guy with a buzzcut who appeared from behind the fidgety barista with a Can-I-speak-to-the-manager-presence.

Geralt rolled his eyes. _What now?_

The man began speaking with a piercing voice. "Okay, OKAY! Sorry, but – how come this _fucking faggot_ here", he motioned to a comically bewildered Jaskier, "can jump the queue _like it's nothing_ , yet you won't let me go through the fucking VIP entrance because _you can't find my name on the fucking guest list_ or whatever! I come here every weekend! That's bullshit."

"This fucking _what_?", Geralt sneered at him, voice impossibly low. He didn't have to look at Eskel and Lambert to know that the two of them were more than happy to let the troublermaker _have it_ because it's been, well, a good while since they had to physically remove someone and this night was going a little too peacefully so far. Neither of them had expected Jaskier, of all people, to intervene but all of Geralt's pent up anger slid off his face as he watched the brunette swig his leg and kick the asshole...

straight

in

the

 _shin_.

Fuck.

The man gasped, completely flabbergasted and clearly unable to decide whether he should be mad or shocked. Meanwhile, Jaskier was, needless to say – _fuming_. "I beg your pardon?! I beg your fucking pardon?!"

The punk miserably bent down to grasp the aching spot between his hands, but not before sending Jaskier a lethal glare to which he threw up his hands defensively. His fight or flight instinct had seemingly merged into a single messy chain of vastly different reactions. Eskel and Lambert were much too amused by this turn of events and Geralt barely surpressed a muffled laughter behind his hand.

"What the...?!", the stranger spun around to gape at the bouncers in disbelief, " _Do_ something! For fuck's sake! That guy kicked me!"

Lambert was the first one to come up with an adequate solution which would turn out to be far more efficent than watching the brunette get his ass kicked – and arguably more boring, but oh well. Geralt didn't really pay close attention to most of their patrons as he all found them horribly annoying to a certain degree, but was vaguely aware of the existence of a certain _buzzcut guy_ that his colleagues had been complaining about. As luck would have it, this jackass had finally given them a probable reason to ban his ass for good.

Jaskier, visibly shaken from having had the upper hand in a fight that hasn't even started, took a few steps back to reconsider his life choices which allowed the bouncer to chime in. "Uhm", Lambert murmured, "Do you... not know who he is...?"

Geralt and Ekel's eyebrows shot up in unison and Jaskier looked at them questioningly, almost as if to say 'I'm in, but who exactly am I?'

Lambert purposefully cleared his throat and leaned in a bit closer. "That's just... That's Vesemir's nephew, y'know."

_Ahhh. Nice one._

Jaskier's new emeny paled at an astonashing velocity.

"Oh god. You're joking."

Lambert shook his head with gusto. That sealed the deal. Jaskier puffed out bis chest in a way that reminded Geralt of a distressed bird, obviously pleased with acquiring a new, prestigous title.

"T-That's right! That is... who I am!", Jaskier sputtered, voice crack included.

The buzzcut guy anxiously rubbed the back of his head, thoroughly embarrassed. Every single one of his complaints seemingly just died in his throat. Oh, how the mighty fall. "Fucking hell... G-god... Okay, listen, I'm sorry, I –"

"No sorries. Get lost. Vesemir _will_ hear about this.", Geralt interjected seriously.

The situation had resolved itself shockingly quick and the offender meekly exited the waiting area without raising an objection. Geralt glanced at his colleague, deeply impressed and somewhat baffled that Lambert had _for once_ chosen not to straight up give the troublemaker a proper beating. Vesemir's supposed nephew looked clearly relieved.

"Haha, good riddance, fucker!", Eskel howled, "Lambert, you jackass, you're weirdly civil nowadays...!"

Lambert received a friendly clap on the back, which he wordlessly endured.

"I guess, I should thank you.", Jaskier exclaimed cheerily which was met with an empathic " _Don't_ " from his savior.

"You can have Geralt, though, _by all means_.", Eskel opted. "If he's not back before the doors open, I will throw a fit."

Geralt nodded obediently and led Jaskier through a seperate gate which brought them to a remote, little spot that served as a smoking area for their wealthier guests, per se, but usually it was where Eskel hid from their supervisors to take a secret nap. Jaskier was standing with his hands behind his back, smirking mischeavously and Geralt felt endlessly grateful for the distinct lack of awkwardness between them.

"So...", Jaskier began, "Who the fuck is Vesemir, if I may ask?"

Geralt chuckled lowly. "You may. He's my very scary boss, the man who single-handedly runs this place. He's not _that_ bad of a guy, you just don't wanna get on his bad side."

"Okay, got it!", Jaskier laughed.

"You're surprisingly feral.", he pointed out fondly. Jaskier's smirk grew. "Customer service does that to you." Then, his face fell a little. "Quite rude of me to pry you away from work, no? I hope I'm not, like, getting you into trouble or anything."

Geralt shrugged. "I don't get in trouble, I deal with it."

"Don't try to sound cool with me, Geralt, I hate it when you try to sound cool."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too."

They dwelled for a moment in their peaceful banter before the urge to address _the situation_ became all sorts of unbearable. Geralt started to look for words that could best convery his intentions aside from "Hm" and "Fuck".

"Listen, Jaskier, about this –"

"I have a gig this sunday!'

The two men briefly stared at each other, utterly stunned. Jaskier shyly pulled a crampled up flyer out of his jeans pocket and shoved it into Geralt's chest where large hands awkwardly unfolded the piece of paper. It said APRIL 9TH/ACOUSTIC NIGHT/8PM/JULIAN ALFRED PANKRATZ in bold, red letters including various other less important details that were wildly scattered across the page. Not a particularly good design, but informative nontheless. Geralt did very little to contain his excitement after the initial wave of worry passed. Most people wouldn't even see the difference but Jaskier was not _most people_.

"Jas, you're fucking amazing."

Geralt proceeded to pull him into a hug, flyer still clenched in his hand, despite the voice inside his head telling him to _tone it down_ and _it's still awkward_ but he allowed himself to let out a small sigh when Jaskier buried his face in the man's broad shoulder.

"Geralt, I'm so happy...", his voice trembled gorgeously, "It's... It's in this really nice bar, not too far from here. The owner of that place is a real gem! Oh, I received the most _excrutiating_ call a couple of hours ago. Geralt, I was so nervous, I dropped my phone like twelve times as we spoke...! God, I haven't had a show in forever, I even forgot I applied for it but – things work out quite nicely sometimes, don't you think? Because... I _do_ think so, yes. Especially, when... Ah – Oooh, haha, okay, you'll have to – I can't breathe." Geralt hesitantly loosened his grip and Jaskier slid away until their chests weren't touching anymore. They still remained considerably close, though, close enough to feel each other's body heat, and Jaskier began raising his nimble, lovely hands to cup his face and pull him in to rest his forehead against Geralt's. He could have preoccupied himself with cataloging every single one of Jaskier's faint freckles if they had all the time in the world. Jaskier spoke up again and Geralt could feel the man's soft breath against his lips. "I'm gonna be honest with you, this whole situation is, uhm... Whack, I guess? Yeah. I don't really wanna talk about it right now, about this – this thing that's happening between us. Let's talk about it on sunday, okay? Sunday is good. Whatever you have to say to me, I'll have it. Just not... now..."

Geralt understood. "Not now.", he agreed while carefully rubbing circles into the shorter man's back. Jaskier beamed up at him with a pronounced uncertainy to it that Geralt chose not to address. No, not now. He wanted to have this moment unspoiled. Jaskier gently rubbed the man's chin with his fingers.

"Thanks for being so cool with it. Sorry, I'm such a mess. Also, please don't shave before sunday, I really love your five o'clock shadow, it gets me through the day and if it's gone, I might not survive the show."

Geralt hummed approvingly and there was this languidly growing tension which usually resulted in either of them being shoved against a wall and getting kissed _relentlessly_ but Geralt managed to be the one to step away from it. He feared to make a wrong move that would make things needlessly weirder. Jaskier smiled at him kindly as they drew apart.

"You should go back to work now, Geralt. I'm not on a mission to get you fired. Tell those guys that _Vesemir's newphew_ sends his best regards."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we gon finish it in the next one bois Brace urselves


	7. extra hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh okay sorry for disappearing i forgot i existed. also: i lied, theres gonna be ANOTHER chapter after this one because . yea. Anyways stan jaskier

Jaskier nervously paced back and forth under Yennefer's watchful gaze. The grip on his guitar subconciously tightened. That instrument has served as his anchor more often than not but right now, nothing could prevent him from sinking — well, except for maybe his dearly beloved frenemy _Yennefer_ , femme fatale extraordinare. The woman in question took a drag of her cigarette, dramatically so, and a little ash fell off the tip. She had pulled him outside for a quick prep talk before the show to rewire his brain so he wouldn't sabotage himself in the most regrettably charming way possible. Jaskier has cultivated a couple of self-destructive habits he mostly displayed when feeling cornered which was _definitely the case right now._ The cool April air did nothing to ease his nerves, it just made him shiver. Yennefer took pity on the man and grumpily stuck the cigarette between her teeth to pull the black leather jacket off her shoulders. Jaskier gasped increduously. A few decisive looks were exchanged and he ended up throwing it on, defeatedly.

"I can't do this. I _literally_ cannot do this.", Jaskier mumbled as he pulled up the zipper.

"That's not how you use the word 'literally', hun."

Yennefer blew smoke into the air with a single, steady exhale. She looked _so very_ _unbothered_ and somberly beautiful, like someone had pulled her out of a Film Noir. Meanwhile, Jaskier was starting to feel like he was given the leading role in a horrible, low-budget romcom but he wanted to believe that he dressed better than that. The self-declared fashion victim pulled at his collar anxiously. It's been four days since he had ambushed Geralt at his workplace and, dammit, that should have given him enough time to come to a conclusion but his stupid, bisexual heart was torn between _want_ and _rejection_. Geralt was this, like, big, sexy rubix cube he could not solve. Jaskier has never experienced stage fright before due to his incurable flamboyance, but the fact that he hasn't played in front of an audience for a _while_ and was currently inflicting the most excrutiating heartache upon himself led to a multitude of explosive feelings.

"Yen, can I have a sip from your flask? I know you brought it. Please."

"Yes, I have it on me and no, you _can't_ — You will sing sober if you can help it, for fuck's sake, you're not Amy Winehouse.", Yennefer retorted.

"Ugh, whatever...", Jaskier grumbled.

Suddenly, the metal door behind him cracked open and the bar owner poked out his head. He was this adorably handsome bearded man in his mid 40s with a fatherly smile that could single-handedly melt the polar caps.

"Julian, buddy", he said, "I cleared the stage for you. Feel free to come up whenever you feel ready."

"Thanks, Mousesack!", Jaskier delivered with fake cheerfulness and the door was being closed again.

His face immediately morphed into an expression of horror.

Yennefer finished off her cigarette, flicked it to the ground and stomped on it with her boot. Then, she grabbed Jaskier by the shoulders and firmly shook him.

"I think your brain has shifted so I'll shake you like a Magic 8-Ball until it falls back into place again. I'm here. Ciri's here. Geralt's here. Your two other friends I didn't bother learning the names of are here. You'll be fine. You're talented. You're a fucking stage hog. You can do this. Don't let your feelings drag you down, enjoy this moment thoroughly. You deserve it."

She spun him towards the door and send him on his way with a powerful clap on the back. Jaskier's hand — the one that wasn't anxiously clutching his guitar — wandered to the door handle and the last thing he heard before reentering the bar was "Go, white boy, go!"

* * *

FIVE MINUTES EARLIER

Most bars were more or less peaceful on Sundays and Geralt quickly noticed that _Cintra_ was the type of place that primarily hosted civilized people instead of messy drunks. Perhaps it was the dim lighting, the faint smell of food or the quiet chatter that came from every single corner of the room, but it seemed to fabricate a sort of tender familiarity that would struck you even upon your first visit. The rock music that emited from the speakers slowly died down and Geralt realized that Jaskier would perform soon. He absent-mindedly brushed off with his thumb the condensed water that clung to his beer glass. He wasn't really sure how he was supposed to feel.

"If he starts playing Her Sweet Kiss, I will go _ham_.", Ciri emphasized and smugly brushed her pale locks aside — persumably to point out that she had braided them. Jaskier's two friends from college (whose names Geralt could not recall for the life of him) both chuckled in respone. "That's a classic!", the girl said. "Yeah! We, like, don't talk that much anymore but I subscribed to him on his Youtube channel and, damn, he's good.", her male companion admitted. Geralt shuddered at their casual small talk and distracted himself with a sip of his beer. Poor well-meaning Ciri, god bless her soul, couldn't warp her head around Geralt's complete lack of interest in social interaction and wasn't yet aware of how his relationship dilemma was still _very much unresolved_ , so she pulled him into the conversation with a mortifying info bomb.

"Geralt here actually knows the lyrics to all of his songs, believe it or not!", she swung her arm around his shoulders which was terribly hard, given their height difference and his _bulk_ , "I mean, of course he would. Bet he gets unlimited concerts, being his boyfriend and all..."

Oh no, _oh no_.

_Fucking hell, Ciri, we're not even official!_

The two friends were now visibly ablaze with curiosity, the girl even gasped with joy and the man shot Geralt an amused grin which, truth be told, he could barely even stomach, given their _current situation._ Geralt mentally cursed at Ciri with an intense glare to which she just blinked with blissful ignorance.

Geralt fucking _wished_ he was his boyfriend — and not this emotionally constipated asshole who had stumbled recklessly into Jaskier's life and hadn't gotten himself to verbalize his feelings. And on top of that, to make matters even worse: Jaskier had wanted to _talk_. The mere thought was giving him whiplash. Jaskier would surely revoke his declaration of love, save himself for someone kinder. Someone who could offer him some peace of mind instead of just his body and dry humor.

Geralt wondered if he could astrally project himself out of this situation, if he just tried. Certain types of aircraft had ejection seats, so why not humans?

He's had enough.

He needed a break.

Just, something... _Someone_... Oh, thank god — _It's Yennefer!_

The woman had casually reappeared in his field of vision and made her way back to their table as if she had picked up on Geralt's telepathic S.O.S. He made a mental note to send her a gift basket. Luckily, Ciri and her newfound friends were now distracted, and Geralt spouted a very strained _'So, how's Jaskier?'_ which did very little to mask his current level of distress. Yennefer gave a concommittal hum and took a sip of his beer like she owned it, that _hag_. He couldn't fight off his gratitude, though, and kept the snarky remark to himself. They had only bumped into each other a handful of times but Geralt has already grown used to her fearless demeanor.

Ciri also had a question for her. "Where'd your jacket go?"

Yennefer offered a sly grin. "You'll see."

The lights suddenly dimmed, except for a single spotlight which was trained on an empty stool on top of the stage. A few people began to clap and murmur excitedly as Jaskier made his way to the designated spot, still snugly wrapped in Yennefer's jacket which went exceedingly well with his flowery shirt and the back, acid-wash jeans. Geralt had to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of him but once he did, his eyes went wide. Jaskier looked so goddamn happy — So flustered, so eager and Geralt hoped, he could store this memory somewhere inside his brain for the rest of his life.

"It's so lovely to see so many of you! I'm Julian Alfred Pankratz, but my friends call me Jaskier, for short. I'll play you some tunes, if that's alright?"

The way he said it made talking in front of an audience look perfectly effortless. Jaskier sat down on his stool and adjusted his guitar, while a few particularly enthusiastic individuals (including Ciri and Yennefer) began to cheer with glee.

"My first song is called: Her Sweet Kiss."

And Ciri did, indeed, go ham.

* * *

Jaskier ended his performance on a high note with an upbeat song that made even the grumpiest patrons tap their feet. His fingers slid off the guitar strings with finality and the show drew henceforth to a close. Jaskier's lips were stretched into the happiest of smiles as he bathed in the roaring applause. It was all his. He casted an approval-seeking glance over to his friends and was thrilled to see their aggressive enthusiasm, especially Ciri's — his self-proclaimed biggest fan. Geralt had given up on raising his voice over the clapping and settled for mouthing a ' _not bad_ ' at the singer, accompanied by a devilishly handsome grin which had Jaskier feeling buzzed, fuzzy and light-heartedly annoyed over his very weak endorsement. Yennefer and his friends, Viktor and Petra, displayed their support with varying intensity which was _so_ endearing. For a moment, Jaskier's eyes fell shut in relief; He then became acutely aware of how the air smelled like sweat, his dad's favorite whiskey and, for some reason, _hopefulness._

The evening, of course, continued to be a zealous celebration of Jaskier's well-received performance. Merrily, they downed shot after shot after shot _after shot._ Ciri never failed to squeal at the harsh burn in the back of her throat while Yennefer apathetically threw back her drinks as if they were _water_ which was equally impressive as it was alarming. Jaskier found it impossibly hard to ignore how Geralt's hand would sometimes brush aside his messy bangs when they stood up in odd angles or rub his nervous shoulder so he moronically offered to pay for another round of drinks (he could not afford) to distract himself from the affection.

After everyone had finished their respective drinks, they decided that they were much too drunk to stay in the same place for any longer and made plans to relocate somewhere else. Jaskier got off his chair and wobbled over to the counter. Firstly, to pay, and secondly, to thank Mousesack for being an eternal ray of sunshine and letting a messy 20-something folkflore singer claim his wonderful stage for the night. The owner graced him with a blinding smile and waved the gang goodbye as they awkwardly stumbled out of the bar like one giant, chaotic cluster. Yennefer, Ciri and _their two new best friends in the whole wide world_ all clung to each other like little school girls as they stumbled to the adjacent street lamp while drunkenly slurring the lyrics to _Fishmonger's Daughter._

Jaskier leaned against the wall and the guitar strapped to his back produced a hollow, little sound. He threw his head back in earnest laughter which quickly melted into a quiet, needy moan once he felt Geralt possessively run his hand through Jaskier's hair. Then, Geralt lightly pulled at it but not quite gentle enough to be void of an underlying plea which hung heavy between them like a magic spell. The brunette lazily lolled his head to the side and was met with unyielding, yellow eyes that were shamelessly transfixed on his lips. It filled Jaskier with a perverse sense of accomplishment that he only got out of Geralt's undevived attention. He smirked slyly, _knowingly_ , even. Both were timid with uncertainty, though, despite their heartfelt imtimacy and just ended up sharing a breath or two. The men remained on the verge of relapsing, so agonizingly close to being buried by an avalanche of physical attraction without never having sorted out their fucking feelings — but, oh no, Jaskier has hopelessly gone astray with his thoughts, somewhere between Geralt's high cheekbones or his strong jaw or...

"We're getting pizza.", Ciri ceremoniously announced and threw herself between Geralt and Jaskier, unaware of their sexual tension — thank god. Jaskier put a hand on her shoulder. "You guys do that.", he agreed. "Me and Geralt are... We're tired. Extremely tired. We'll be heading home, guys, unfortunately."

That proclamation drew a disappointed groan out of everyone, including Geralt, who knew what was coming. _The talk._ Oof.

Jaskier chuckled merrily. "Hate to be the partypooper. I really do. But... Thanks, all of you. For coming. It means a lot."

Yennefer stepped forward and gave Jaskier a friendly kiss on the cheek. "You killed it, love. And, hey, please keep the jacket for now. I don't need you to catch a cold. Your next shift's on Tuesday, right? I'll stop by to pick it up. Don't get any stains on it, unless you're very keen on having me tear you another asshole." The man nodded his head dutifully. "I would _never_." She smirked. "Attaboy."

Ciri also walked up to them, threw her arms around Jaskier's shoulders and started whining about how dreamy he looked on stage and how he _needed_ to do more shows. Utterly charmed by her endless stream of praise, he obliged and promised to do better. Then, he let her go to talk with Viktor and Petra, which was far less emotional since they had grown apart quite a bit, but Jaskier sternly emphasized how much he appreciated their support and pulled the two of them into a big, cheesy group hug. Ciri, of course, let out a sentimental _Ahw_. As they drew apart, Petra unexpectedly leaned in to whisper something in Jaskier's ear. Whatever she said must have been something _scandalous_ , because he suddenly blushed like a virgin maiden. Geralt quirked his eyebrow in curiosity but chose to say nothing.

Everyone pleasantly waved the pair goodbye as they split up from the group and made their way to Geralt's car. He had previously mentioned, that it was located at the very back of Cintra's private parking lot which was _much too far away for Jaskier's liking._ How was he gonna fill the silence? He couldn't possibly hit him with the "So, what are we? _"_ yet. Perhaps they should start with some small talk. About the weather? Yeah, the weather seemed good.

"So, uhm...", Jaskier began, nervously, "It's pretty dark outside, isn't it?"

The brunette proceeded to mentally slap himself in the face.

Geralt snickered at the failed attempt to establish some form of normality and shook his head in disbelief. "It's 2 AM."

Jaskier sighed, theatrically. "Throw me a bone here, will you? My brain's all mushy from performing for all you lovely people."

"I know.", Geralt assured him in such a gentle, husky tone, it made the tension slip off Jaskier's shoulders. "You don't have to say anything."

Jaskier thought about how different their footsteps sounded, for a second. Geralt with his heavy Dr. Martens and Jaskier in his light, worn out sneakers.

"But... Shit, I _want_ to.", he murmured. Childish stubborness came over him. "Can I tell you about how my day went so far?"

His lover nodded patiently and Jaskier started to recite every little detail he could think of. About how he woke up with a vague recolletion of a dream he had about his high school math teacher, how he had spilled tea all over his crotch while picking out tonight's outfit, how he found a pack of cigarettes behind his couch and try to smoke one to ease his nerves but it sent him into the worst coughing fit of his entire life. Every word that fell from his lips was meditative, helped Jaskier cope with his stirring anxiety. He let his hand slip into Geralt's, but not entirely by choice, no. It was partially just a display of muscle memory. A habit. Geralt let it happen. Before they knew it, they had made it to his car. Jaskier suddenly came to a realization.

"Geralt, darling, with all due respect, I think you shouldn't be driving."

The white-haired man was known for holding his liquor supremely well, _but still_...

Geralt calmly leaned his back against the rear door and mustered Jaskier with his attractive, unreadable face. "Oh, I'm not driving, no worries. I'm here to pick up my wallet. I'll call us a cab."

Jaskier hummed and absent-mindedly closed the gap between them with a few quick strides. Geralt wrapped his arms around the man's waist because he too was not immune to the power of habit. The parking lot was empty, luckily, because Jaskier now tilted his head and gently pressed his lips against Geralt's and they remained like this for a brief moment, revelling in the tenderness of it. It wasn't long until Geralt licked at Jaskier's lips and the kiss grew more impatient, deepened by each other's blunt desire for reassurance and it felt _so damn good_ to just not think. Jaskier took his lower lip between his teeth and bit at it sweetly, became euphoric when Geralt made an approving sound. He tightened his grip around his waist and Jaskier felt mildly ashamed at how little gestures like these still gave him butterflies, made him flustered and eager. Much to his disdain, Geralt was the first one to break the kiss.

"Jas...", he sighed, simultaneously strained and contented, "We should... You know..."

Jaskier nodded. "Yeah, I know...", he said, lowering his eyes. Despite his previous resolve, he couldn't resist the urge to lift the hem of Geralt's shirt a little to run his fingers over hard muscle. How nice it was — to reaffirm that he could have him. Jaskier raised his head again to hold Geralt's gaze.

"Will you get in the car with me?"

The way he said it, voice barely above a whisper, stripped Geralt of any remaining will power and left him antsy with anticipation. Once again, he has fallen victim to the pleading eyes or perhaps his short upturned nose — maybe even the lovely curve of his cupid's bow. " _Fuck,_ I missed you.", Geralt spluttered out of the blue and Jaskier responded by pulling him in closer for another fierce kiss, almost as if to say _'Yes, me too'_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for da cliffhanger i have the next chapter written out I'll post it tomorrow. 
> 
> anyhow Pls stay informed about the current development in yemen and the BLM movement <3 acab my dudes, love yall


	8. make it decaf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah hi said i was gonna bump up the rating so HERE WE GO Please dox me and beat my ass. domo arigato
> 
> >> if you are uncomfortable with nsfw content please stop reading after "He briefly fought with Geralt's belt while cursing his drunkeness (...)" and continue reading at "Geralt looked spent, wonderfully so." <<
> 
> (phillip defranco voice) lets jump right in

Geralt started climbing into his car and landed on the backseat with a soft _thud_. Jaskier promptly followed while trying to evade banging his head on the terribly low ceiling. They had to make do with what they had, so there wasn't much of a _choice_ and Jaskier quickly gave up on getting comfortable. Geralt, meanwhile, could barely surpress his evil laughter upon watching poor, intoxicated Jaskier struggle to shake off his guitar. After a _particularly_ careless pull, the younger man ended up getting struck in the face by the handle. Geralt made zero effort to intervene _which was completely sadistic from Jaskier's point of view_ but then hummed approvingly, when the man had finally succeeded in storing his beloved instrument on the passenger seat. Geralt began to show something akin to remorse and pushed himself up to kiss the pesky frown off of Jaskier's face.

" _You're insufferable._ ", Jaskier panted, as they split up to regain some air. "And you're gorgeous.", Geralt opted, which resulted in Jaskier's lips to tremble with feeble restraint before breaking into a brilliant smile. "D'aw... I can't cope with flattery from you. _I'm_ supposed to be the silver-tongued Prince Charming and _you're_ the handsome devil who communicates with grunts and eye rolls! Get with the program!"

Geralt was now flashing him a small smile of his own. "Nah, I'll give you a run for your money."

He then lifted his hand – probably to carress Jaskier's face – but was surprised when the brunette caught it with his own and brought it to his mouth to lick at his fingers. The smile on his face grew wicked and cocky as Geralt's breath audibly hitched in his thoat. _Perfect_. It was sobering to realize how much he adored every single response from his lover. "Lie down again, yeah?", Jaskier cooed as he withdrew his lips, so _thoroughly pleased_ with the annoyed growl that Geralt produced.

But, needless to say, he obliged.

Jaskier wasn't sure why the thought of sucking off Geralt in his shabby Jeep was so insanely hot but he surely wasn't one to question his own weird fetishes. He briefly fought with Geralt's belt while cursing his drunkeness but the white-haired man found it in him to assist Jaskier for once, _geez. What a kindred soul_. Together, they achieved the impossible and freed Geralt's cock. Jaskier suddenly experienced a rare moment of clarity in which he thanked his parents for being born and then dove straight down for the man's crotch. Eyes on the prize. Geralt, who allowed himself to space out for a moment (as he was reasonably drunk himself) just let out a strangled "God, Jesus – _Fuck_ " as he was being pulled back into reality by having Jaskier's lips wrapped around his half-hard arousal.

Unsurprisingly, the world, which had been spinning for quite some time, came to a halt.

Jaskier whinced and moaned at the familiar taste on his tongue, his throat impossibly raw from singing but that wouldn't stop him, no, because Geralt was now dragging his nails across Jaskier's scalp, pulling at his hair and cursing feverishly with wonderful, deep voice. _All for him._ That thought made his toes curl, worsened the tightness in his pants. Jaskier was over the moon – or any celestial body for that matter, really. That fleeting peacefulness helped him overcome how much it sucked (pun intended) to crane his neck and constantly bump with his legs into Geralt's. The growing temperature inside the car was slowly turning unbearable, though, and Jaskier, as committed as he was, needed to get this over with _soon_. He pulled his mouth away to finish him off with a few, gentle strokes. It must have felt amazing, because Geralt came with the most heartfelt _Fuck_ Jaskier had ever heard and spilled all over his hand.

Geralt looked spent, wonderfully so. Jaskier, in his perpetual state of being enarmored, stole a quick kiss as if to prove a point. There was something so _appreciative_ about the way Geralt eyed him, so Jaskier took it upon himself to ruin it by wiping his hand on a seatbelt. He cackled like a maniac when Geralt's groaned and slapped his arm.

"Fucking menace.", he sneered with no real bite. It was adorable, really, how hard he tried to look assertive with his disheveled hair and flushed face. Jaskier just smiled idly and laced their fingers together.

After some time, a shuddering breath escaped him.

Then, _another_.

Jaskier hurriedly removed his hand to wipe at his face. Primarily to shield himself from Geralt's eyes, but also because his eyes were watering at an alarming speed and – _God_ , it was all too much. The banter. The kindness. Everything he'd ever wanted... _And yet..._

"Jaskier...? What's... What's going on? Talk to me?"

Geralt was completely taken aback. The hurt in his voice made wanna Jaskier _sob,_ truly, but he fought back against the wave of sadness with all his might. He tried to will away the tears, as painful as it was, but one managed to fall from his eye. He quickly wiped it off before Geralt could see it and laughed apologetically. It only served to worsen the other man's confusion.

"It's, haha, y'know...", Jaskier said with his trembling voice, "Your cock's just so massive. Brought me to tears. Silly me." He sniffed. "Sorry, I need a moment. _Fuck_ _."_

With that, he exited the car and left Geralt to his own devices. He couldn't even _fathom_ what just happened. Was it his fault? Did he hurt him? Geralt ran a hand through his hair, painfully aware of how distressed he was and pissed at himself for never knowing what to say. Frustration bubbled up in his chest, crawled into his brain.

 _Why was it always so hard with Jaskier?,_ he thought, surprised at his own cruelty – but then he realized _why_.

_Because he cared._

Because Jaskier was always worth the trouble. Worth being cared for, worth reassessing his boundaries, worth being tracked down after leaving him with a stupid, cryptic sharpie message.

_Dammit._

He needed Jaskier to know.

He got out of the vehicle and sighed in relief when he spotted the brunette sitting on the hood of his car. He was curled up into a small, Jaskier-shaped ball, but at least, he'd stopped crying. People like him shouldn't be sad. The sight made him ache. He approached the man as respectfully as he could and gently nudged him by the shoulder so he would scoot over. Jaskier hesistantly complied. They sat in silence for a moment. Geralt's brain was desperately trying to come up with a conversation starter. It was unnerving to see him this quiet. In fact, everything was too quiet. The bar was closed by now. The parking lot was quiet, too, aside from the occasional passersby.

"The, uhm... The girl – What'd she say to you before we left?"

Jaskier laughed again without raising his head, but this time it sounded earnest. "None of you guys learned their names. _You're such assholes_ _._ Her name is Petra."

Geralt hoped it was appropriate but he couldn't cope with their physical distance. He placed his palm on the small of Jaskier's back. Nothing too crazy. It seemed to be alright. Jaskier was leaning into the touch.

"I'm sorry, songbird. What'd Petra say?"

Jaskier's face was obscurred by his arms but Geralt could tell he was smiling. "I like it when you call me that."

"I know."

"Can I give you a pet name, too?"

"Hell no."

"Hm, bummer."

Jaskier now properly sat up and tilted his face to look at Geralt. His eyes were puffy. Fuck.

"Petra said, you're good for me.", he revealed.

"Jaskier..."

The brunette held his gaze, earnestly.

"You're good for me, too.", Geralt said.

Jaskier's lip was starting to wobble again and something inside of Geralt _broke_ _._ He couldn't believe that there had _ever_ been something more important to him than Jaskier's happiness because, dammit – _maybe this could work_. He wanted it to work so much with every fibre of his being. He had never wanted it this much with any of his exes.

Jaskier was crying again and trying to deny it. "I don't wanna hear it. _You don't even love me back._ ", he spat, getting increasingly mad with himself and with Geralt and with the world.

Geralt looked like he wanted to cry but physically _couldn't_ and Jaskier, despite his misery, _felt for him because his heart was big enough for two._

Geralt couldn't bear it. "Of course I love you, dammit!", he insisted.

Jaskier gaped at him in disbelief.

"I hate saying it. I tried to show it. _I failed you._ But I'll say it a hundred more times, if you need to hear it."

He wasn't sure if it was seeing Jaskier be so open with someone as undeserving as him or if it was his own, explosive frustration – but seeing all that plain slip off Jaskier's face was elevating.

" _Oh._ ", Jaskier breathed. Then, he exploded with anger. "You oaf! _You dumbass!_ " Geralt was now submitted a series of slaps. "You should have told me! I was so sad, I thought, I'd die!"

Geralt didn't do anything to shield himself. _Figures._ "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just... It's... I'm bad with feelings. Been hurt, gotten quiet. I can't – _deal_ with people.", he admitted, miserably. Jaskier gave him one last smack, for good measure. He sighed and wiped his face again.

"I guess there's no point in being upset. I'm dating an imbecile. It's a self-fullfilling prophecy.", he smirked.

Geralt failed to surpress a grin and Jaskier moved a little closer to give him a kiss, simply to assert that Geralt was _his_. Point proven. They parted and Geralt nuzzled his nose against Jaskier's which, in return, made the shorter man smile. Maybe Geralt wasn't so bad, after all, he thought. Suddenly, Jaskier flinched.

"Oh my god, Geralt. I'm still wearing Yennefer's jacket. I've been wearing it when we... OH NO. _Oh no_."

Geralt's face paled. "Do you think I...?"

Jaskier cut him off with a panicked gasped. "I sure hope you didn't! Can you _please_ check?!"

A couple of seconds passed while Jaskier spun around so Geralt coult inspect the thing. "Jas, I think it's..."

He paused. Jaskier's blood ran cold.

"Geralt...?"

No response.

"Geralt!", Jaskier whined. He was now pulling off the jacket in record speed to see the damage for himself, and – _there it was_. A pale stain, right next to the zipper. The two of them exchanged startled looks. Geralt, prone to keeping a cool head, was the first one to snap out of his state of shock.

"Ciri will know what to do.", he grumbled.

Jaskier nodded frantically and put both hands on his boyfriend's shoulders. "Ciri _always_ knows what to do."

The two of them proceeded to fish Geralt's meager belongings out of the car and called a cab to go to Jaskier's place. They would get some sleep before summoning the girl.

For some reason, Jaskier felt like he could conquer any obstacle with Geralt by his side.

And if not, well, Ciri would surely arrange them a lovely funeral.

Good things are bound to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u very much for reading this. i upload witcher art on instagram (@saddest_comet) come holler at me or whatever. 
> 
> and give urself a proper hug for makin it thru this week. u deserve good things. love ya. bye.


End file.
